Come Dine With Me
by Rigel99
Summary: The shorts Interlude, Sojourn & Fatal Attraction herein combined, as they flowed pretty well from each other. I just can't resist wanting Hannibal and Will to find complete solace in each other. If you've read them already, thanks for giving them a shot! With gratitude to Mr Thomas Harris and Mr Bryan Fuller for bringing such interesting and multi-dimensional characters to life.
1. Interlude Beneath The Botticelli

"Every crime of yours feels like one I am guilty of. Not just Abigail's murder, but every murder stretching backward and forward in time," I said softly.

"Then what's left to do? Freeing yourself from me and me freeing myself from you, they're the same," replied Hannibal, shifting his body closer to bring his arm into contact with mine. I felt his gaze as it explored the lines of my face, as his hand followed their path to ghost his fingertips along my temple. I flinched under the unexpected contact.

"What are you doing, Hannibal?," I asked, the confusion in my eyes barely concealed.

"I am introducing another dynamic to our renewed relationship. Do you approve?," he whispered against his cheek.

"I— I'm not sure…," I replied hesitantly not yet making any move to resist Hannibal's attentions, my eyes slipping shut involuntarily under Hannibal's assault of my jawline.

Hannibal ran his hand down my side and reached into his pocket to pull out the knife. I was unable to resist. He put it into his own pocket without pausing the feathersoft lingering brush of lips against my neck.

"And there I was thinking you were just happy to see me. How foolish of me," he murmured. He drew back and followed the path of my eyes.

"Beautiful, is it not?," he asked, as he watched me intent in my attempts to ground myself by focussing on La Primavera before us.

"Breathtaking," I whispered. I shook my head and drew myself along the seat and out of Hannibal's immediate space. "Somewhat overwhelming, I'd venture to say."

Not to be deterred, Hannibal followed me, moving along the bench to wrap his aura around my own. My empathy felt both our curiosities piqued by this turn of events.

"Tell me, Will. When you gaze upon Botticelli's arguably finest work, what do you see?"

"It's more what— I feel…"

"Oh? And what do you feel?," Hannibal enquired, as a confident hand came to rest on the small of my back.

"You, as the wind, surrounding me, touching me relentlessly, ignoring my denial, my resistance to your cold allure."

"Then you see yourself as Chloris? As I swoop down to free you from your self-defined trappings to make you mine?," Hannibal asked, continuing his gentle caress while evidently drinking in the effect his touch was eliciting on my body.

I stood and stepped closer to the painting, trying to clear my mind of the seductive sound of Hannibal's voice.

"Chloris had no choice but to surrender to Zephyrus. Defined as she is by the season she represents."

Hannibal stood and stepped up behind me. "And you think you have a choice, Will?," he asked, warm breath imprinting the words on the nape of my neck.

"Where you and I are concerned? I would like to think so."

"What we like to think and what is by design are up for debate," he replied, placing warm, strong hands on my waist. I didn't resist Hannibal's move as he turned me so as to face each other.

I looked at Hannibal's lips with an expression of curiosity, a curiosity I could sense Hannibal would be more than content to satisfy, though not before I asked, "And you, Hannibal. What do you see?"

He tilted his head and brought his attention back to the canvas. "I had thought I had discovered all La Primavera had to offer until this moment." He kept his hands on my waist as he drew us both back to the bench and continued. "I do tend to think of you as my Chloris, the endless supply of burgeoning fertility you lavish on my mind."

He sat down and guided me into the place beside him. "Now, I also consider the gaze of Love as she watches Mercury, the first blossoming of attraction, our roles interchangeable between the two. We are moving beyond our neoplatonic sensibilities, past the canvas of what is before our eyes."

Hannibal leaned his body into mine, gently pushing me down to lay on the bench, hands resting either side of my reclining head on the flat surface beneath. "That said, I would still wish to be your Zephyrus, should you choose to allow it…"

The first kiss was unexpectedly soft and gentle, as I felt myself easing into the move with a familiarity that belied the time we had been apart. Much like falling in love with the female form captured in a work by Botticelli, the accompanying stab of emotion as the blade of passion pierces the gut was not dissimilar to the feeling of Hannibal's lips on mine. I watched the scene from above, my civilised sensibilities screaming at the wrongness of yielding to the act, but devotion devoured and melted away the time during which we had been apart. Who was I to fight instinct? I had evolved new sensibilities. I had strived to know him better before laying eyes on him again. In doing so, I had achieved something else. The knowledge that in the gravitational presence of Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is more than mere mortal. He shines. He emanates a wisdom that extends beyond the experiences that have bookmarked his existence pre-Hannibal Lecter.

With small reluctance, Hannibal drew back, even as I attempted to maintain the surprisingly enrapturing contact. He sat up, pulling me close, placing warm, kiss-swollen lips against my temple as he spoke.

"Now's the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from wanting this. Allowing us. Can you do that, Will?"

Why strive and agonise over a world that blindly refuses to agonise over itself? Death is inevitable. And now, as I leave the Uffizi Gallery by Hannibal's side, I know the true power of life over death. Walking beside Death himself - knowing where he is always - has its advantages.

He will not kill me. Unless of course I ask him to do so.

My shallow, husked breath supplied agreement enough. For now. "I can try, Hannibal."

Hannibal rose slowly. "Then try we shall. After you, Will," he said, raising an outstretched open palm towards the entrance. I do not know where he is taking me, but the singular expression he casts my way tells me that he is intent on finishing what he started beneath La Primavera. I was about to discover what it meant to be devoured by Hannibal Lecter. But unlike his countless prior main courses, while I may grace the centre of his dinner table, I will be Aperitivo, Digestivo and everything in between. I will leave the table sated, as will the Wendigo that haunts my nightmares and fantasies…


	2. Sojourn at Sogliato's

"Welcome to la casa di Sogliato," Hannibal said casually as he draped his jacket over a nearby chair and undid a few buttons at the top of his shirt.

"And where is the owner of la casa now?," I enquired, "an extended sabbatical perhaps?"

"Extended indeed. Permanently in fact. One could argue it a technicality, but in effect, Bedelia killed Professor Sogliato. No great loss to the world. When the man becomes overshadowed by the position he holds in life, he himself becomes a shadow, and quite undeserving of the privileges that come with such prestige."

"Dr DuMaurier has always struck me more as an observer than a participant in the activities that come with living within your sphere of influence," I replied.

"She is also an incredibly skilled psychiatrist who has become deft at applying the disillusionments embraced by the common man to her own actions," Hannibal countered, folding his arms as he leaned against the smooth edge of the dining table.

"Well, she did learn from some of the best…" I took a step closer to him, maintaining eye contact.

"And you, Will? Would you say you too learned from the best?," he enquired, unfolding his arms to rest his hands by his side in a gesture of physical openness.

"Your definition of the word "best" would determine my answer, Hannibal." Before he could respond I continued my train of thought, as well as my movements towards him. "You were the best of friends before you framed me for multiple murders. You were the best of dinner hosts before I realised you were serving up delectably prepared parts of your victims. You were the best of all I had when I had nothing else, before I realised you had taken everything from me until there was nothing left but you…"

I boldly reached up to run my hand through his hair and grip the nape of his neck. I pulled myself close, leaned my forehead against his and closed my eyes.

"And even now after all this time and all I have learned, there is STILL nothing but you…"

He made no move. "I could devour you right here, right now, you know."

"You could," I said, keeping my eyes closed as I spoke, feeling the power and want radiate from him rather than look the desire in the eye. "But you won't."

"Why won't I?"

"Because it would be akin to consuming yourself, and I don't believe you are yet ready to do that, Hannibal."

Those words it seemed were enough for Hannibal to continue our interlude beneath Botticelli, as he leaned forward in one fluid movement to resume our kiss.

He broke away, leaving me flushed and panting, the state of his own discomposure only betrayed by the desire in his eyes. "You are correct, William. That would be a terrible waste of a meal that could be savoured for some time to come."

He grabbed my forearms and swung me around, hoisting me bodily onto the dining table. He pushed me back to lie flush on the hard, unyielding surface, climbing over and enveloping my mind and body as he kissed me hard again.

"Are you ready for your first course, Will?"

I smiled up at his dishevelled countenance, while my breath left my body hard and heavy. "I could eat something…"

* * *

I closed my eyes. The golden cord swept across my darkness, once, twice, three times, before I opened them again.

I paused to absorb the scene around me. "So this is where you keep me?"

"It is one of several rooms in my mind palace within which you reside," Hannibal replied. "What do you think?"

Smooth, ebony-coloured floors held twisted, knotted patterns that swirled beneath my bare feet. The wood radiated warmth. Was it alive? I considered for a moment it was pulsating, though that could have been nothing more than the throb of my own steadily increasing heartbeat, its rhythm pushing me forward further into my own personal space in Hannibal's mind palace.

Panels of floor-to-ceiling mirrors hung against two of the opposing walls, from each was draped a transparent golden veil, dampening the sense of infinity that would come without their softening of Hannibal's reality.

A fire pit, angled at 45 degrees, was embedded in the wall in the far corner of the room. I gazed at the flames as they licked and twined round each other. I observed they were almost languid and sensual in their movements, noting the nine concentric circles within which they moved, circles that seemed to weave a path that would lead me to the very bowels of Hell itself. My reverie was broken by the sound of Hannibal's voice drawing me back to his world.

"I would venture to say that you are impressed with my choice." He was standing by the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, a bed I hasten to add, which went beyond the definition of decadence. Rich, luxurious deer pelts of black and grey, lay invitingly across the mattress, pillows into which you could sink teeth stifling the most intensified moans of pleasure.

And above it, hung La Primavera.

"This, is how you see me?"

"Yes. Or at least, this is how I imagine the more sensual aspect of Will Graham."

"I'm… flattered…," I ventured, as I moved to the opposite side of the bed.

"You are the counterpoint to my very own existence, Will. How else would I treat someone so precious?"

Throughout the conversation, he had continued to divest himself of the remainder of his clothes, before climbing naked and unabashed onto the bed. He tilted his head and extended a hand in invitation. "Won't you join me?"

This was his world. I had entered it freely and without compunction. I had sought him out as much as he had drawn me towards this moment.

So I did the only thing I could. I gave myself to him.

* * *

His eyes burned.

I couldn't tell if those dark pools were reflecting the inferno of the fire behind me, or the flames emanated from his own soul. Perhaps both. It was not unlike the colour with which they had burned the night he gutted me in his own kitchen, left me bleeding and empty, my blood pooling with that of Abigail's own, our final embrace.

They blazed a trail across my skin as we knelt, only breath apart, across from each other on the deer pelt-adorned mattress. Its softness moulded my skin, in direct contrast to the feel of Hannibal's eyes, as he chiselled new grooves into the ever-changing contours of my body.

He made no move to touch me. Nor I him. Was there any need? When he could feel me, as I felt him too, pulsing through my veins, caressing the muscles beneath my skin with each passing beat of my heart, delving into the most hidden crevasses of my mind where even I had once feared to tread.

"Do you know why I came to Florence, Will?"

I summoned the memories, conversations and moments I had amassed and shared with Hannibal.

"Were I not to know you as well as I do now, I would have said Botticelli." I allowed my eyes to trail down his arms and come to rest on the scars I had bestowed upon him by the proxy hand of Matthew Brown. I brought that memory to my mind and the feelings it stirred in my bowels, the gut reaction tearing my innards as a lion would its prey before devouring. The day I abandoned a version of Will Graham in favour of a new incarnation.

"But now I know better," I whispered.

Hannibal waited.

"Florence made you a man. Here you found a sense of the humanity you needed that could counter the monster within."

Hannibal smiled softly and the fire in his eyes quelled to glowing embers, as he moved closer to me. "Is it little wonder, the love that swells within me for you?"

"May I touch you?"

I smiled in response. "You are an overflowing paradox of existence, Hannibal," I replied, with a hint of ruefulness. I gave him my permission by reaching out to touch his cheek. "You harbour no misgivings about invading, rearranging and evolving my mind, but you hesitate to explore the physicality of our human drives and desires…"

"In my endeavours as a psychiatrist, my work only shapes and hones what is already there, waiting its becoming," his voice coarse as he leaned his face into the palm of my hand.

"Unlike the body, the mind is truly malleable. In its macro form, the body is already defined. An established genetic blueprint implanted in the world." I stilled as he ran warm fingertips down my throat to come to rest above my heart, its throb mirroring his own.

"Physical expression can be vulgar unless approached with care and consideration. I refrain from such vulgarities." The throbbing became stronger, louder, filling my ears. I felt my chest split open and watched as Hannibal took my beating heart and placed it on a golden platter. He sliced a piece from the side of the organ and speared it a fork before raising it to his lips.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes while gripping his shoulders, thumbs gently caressing his collarbones, grounding me, a reminder that in another place, another reality, dinner was being served and I was Hannibal's main course. I felt the pulse of that piece of myself quicken as I slipped gently into his mouth, down his throat. Opening my eyes again, I saw the sheer pleasure on his face, his lips apart, eyes closed as he savoured the first taste of that which we had denied ourselves for so long.

I wondered briefly if I could ever come back from this moment, or if I would prefer to be devoured forever by the flames of his desire, knowing nothing in my future could compare to the force of his nature coursing through my body.

Forever would never be long enough.


	3. Winter at Wolf Trap

I inhaled deeply.

Dogs. Pine. Hannibal.

Exhaling a long, slow, relaxed breath, I felt his fingers softly push through damp curls before opening my eyes to meet his gaze and the tender, almost affectionate, smile. I was laid out on the bed in my living room. Hannibal laying beside me, watched me intently, eyes aglow in the semi-light, my Morningstar.

"Had I known Mason was so cut up that I had not kept in touch, I would have popped by Muskrat Farm sooner."

I laughed at that, though it hurt to do so.

"How did we get—?"

"A combination of debts owed and, of course, Chiyoh."

"Mason?," I enquired.

"That particular poorly reared generation of pig no longer stymies the gene pool. I am sure Alana and Margo will instil and nurture a much better pedigree line in the next."

"Chiyoh…," I raised myself up on my elbows to watch him as he rose to fetch a bowl of warm water from the kitchen to clean my wounds.

"She watches over me. Over us." He gently placed the cloth on my stomach. Goosebumps involuntarily peppered my skin in response to his touch. Fear and trust. Love and hate. All conflicting emotions blur in his presence.

"My greatest achievement," he paused as he rose from the edge of the bed to stand and gaze out the window. He was remembering. "Next to you."

"Cold…"

"You've lost blood. That's to be expected," he said matter-of-factly, as a medical professional is wont to do.

He returned to my side and without hesitation leaned towards me to bestow a soft embrace. Always the paradox. The hard, smooth edges of his mind offset by the gentle touch of a man who has known the pain of a love ripped from his being, more pain felt in a single moment in time than the most defeated prisoner of war might endure in a lifetime.

I lay back down again, looking at the ceiling as I spoke.

"You and I, Hannibal. We are unsustainable."

"Yes. It would seem that the convergence of our lives does shake up what appears on the surface to be the natural order of things."

Wolf Trap was wrapped in Winter. Hannibal and I frozen in its time.

"You are asking me to leave," he said plainly. He did not need to get emotional about the finality of our time together. I felt enough for the both of us.

"For both our sakes, Hannibal." I continued, hoping to apply the empathy required to his own nature that would allow him to understand our mutual needs. "The snow will preserve this time we have together. We will be reborn when our next Spring arrives. Chloris and her Zephyrus."

"After all you have learned, you now seek blissful ignorance…"

"I will never be ignorant of you. You seared yourself into my mind, you consumed my heart and now you own my soul," I replied.

"Quite some romantic notions you have there, Will."

"I console myself how I can. It calms the tempest in my blood that is you. To become the centre of your storm."

"Every memory will be a knife, and I will not be there to stem the bleeding," he whispered against my forehead.

I revelled in the feel of his breath against my skin. "I will visit you frequently in the rooms we share in our mind palaces. I know I will always find you there."

"A promise?"

"A vow."

"They're coming."

"Yes they are."

"Will you wait for me?"

"For as long I must…"


	4. Love Letter from Lecter

I stared into the flames as I absently caressed the paper etched with Hannibal's words.

 _Dear Will, we have all found a new life, but our old lives hover in the shadows. Soon enough I fear Jack Crawford will come knocking. I would encourage you, as a friend, not to step back through the door he holds open. It's dark on the other side, and madness is waiting._

 _\- Hannibal_

I closed my eyes and welcomed the veil. It had been some time since I had invited its lure. With each passing day, waking up next to Molly, I found it more and more difficult to visit our mind palace, the wrench I felt as I pulled myself back from his presence, tearing another piece of my heart and mind to be left for him to feast upon. I wasn't sure how much more of myself was left to give. But each piece left with him, had been replaced by the presence of Molly. She had become to me, as Florence was to Hannibal. She made me human.

But now, reading Hannibal's words, I heard his soft timbre invade and vibrate within me again, whispering sweet everythings of what we had, what we were. I wondered now, at this newly-born monster manifesting between us, pulling us both inexorably back into each other's gravities. It was only a matter of time before our paths would converge once more, to wreck havoc upon the world.

 _I opened my eyes to watch as he expertly carved a slice of meat from the leg of lamb between us. His dining room had never changed._

 _"You want me to come, but cannot bring yourself to write the words…," I said._

 _He spoke as he continued to carve. "I do not wish you to come. Though Jack Crawford may believe you can save lives, I am and shall always be more concerned with yours."_

 _He sat before lifting his wine glass and raising it towards me with a smile. "I fear were I to see you in the flesh again, I might become powerless in the face of the desires you evoke within me." He sipped and placed the glass down again. "And I have become so very adept at managing my needs. It would be shame to spoil my achievements for the sake of a few families."_

 _"And if I need to see you?"_

 _Hannibal swallowed his forkful of lamb before replying. "Then I am powerless to stop you. But you cannot say I did not warn you and try to protect us from each other."_

 _He continued, his gaze one of admiration and want. Though that was more likely my own reflection in his eyes. "Jack Crawford will conduct, I will play and you, dear Will, will be the instrument to sing our deadly composition. Are you ready for that?"_

I pulled back to myself and the flames before me. I looked again at the page. Held it close to my face. The scent, unmistakably him, intoxicating and flooding my mind with our former liaisons, fresh and keen as the day he had devoured me whole. I threw it on the fire and leaned back.

The words screamed softly. Not with warning to stay away.

It was an invitation. One which Hannibal understood completely I would be unable to resist.


	5. Breakfast at the BSHCI

"Your taste in aftershave hasn't improved one iota, Will."

"I wore it especially for you, Hannibal. Thought it might bring back some treasured memories."

He was smiling as he turned to face me. "And you thought better than to heed my warning."

"Jack Crawford is a rather persuasive man."

"Persuasive? Or manipulative?," he said with a tilt of his head as he approached the glass. "He is not so far removed from the monsters to whom he dedicates his life in pursuit of. He merely lacks your resilience and fortitude when it comes to stepping into their minds."

He ran his gaze over my body. I felt it prickle my skin, along with the shiver that would normally accompany nakedness. "Married life obviously agrees with you, Will."

Despite the horrendous hospital jumpsuit, with which I had no doubt he had worked hard to reconcile himself, it could not detract from the aura of dominance, allure and sheer magnetism he exuded. He looked even more dangerous than I remembered. My heart was beating so rapidly and loudly I was certain he could hear it, as surely as I felt its rhythm thudding in my ears.

"I wonder if it would have agreed with me more had I pursued a life as a murder husband," I said without a hint of hesitation.

He remained still but I watched as his pupils dilated. I congratulated myself inwardly on being the only person in existence who could evoke such emotion in Il Monstro di Firenze. "Our friend Freddie Lounds still wields a less than stylish command of the English language…," he began.

"… All the while sitting beneath her bridge of missed opportunities. If we did not feed the troll Hannibal, she would be torturing someone else. Consider it another of your pro bono activities in aid of higher mortals…," I finished his train of thought.

"I have missed you, Will," he whispered. "And I wonder if we may yet get to explore Ms Lounds suggested dynamic," he concluded, with ingrained confidence.

I couldn't help but give a quirk of my lips. Even in his current situation, and to all outward appearances, the certainty of a future under the care of Alana Bloom, Hannibal Lecter's skill at maximising his opportunities with long-term intent always left me in grudging admiration. He was irresistible to me. He understood that all too well also.

I held up the Tooth Fairy's FBI file. "Will you help us?"

"No. I will help you. I am powerless in the face of seeing you again in the flesh to decline," he spoke the words not dissimilar to those when we conversed in my mind palace dining room. My fear and desire battled with each other again. Could I know him any better?

I did not take my eyes from his, nor did he once drop his from mine, as I slid the file into the partition drawer. I longed to feel his touch again. I wondered how long I would have to wait?

He briefly flicked through the contents before setting it on his table. He half-glanced over his shoulder. "You will return tomorrow, Will? Give me a little time to review our fledgling protege? Besides, I think my breakfast is about to be served…"


	6. Burgundy on the Bluff

"So Will, have you left your affairs in order?"

"There has always been a part of me that wanted to run away with you. But now, now that we're here, I can't believe it's finally happening…," I said absently, looking out the passenger window of the police car.

"While I do not entertain the idea of destiny, being of the firm belief that destiny lies within my own control, her plans for you and I certainly take some refuting."

"I only wish—…"

"Yes?"

"That I hadn't denied you for so long, Hannibal." I shook my head. "Denied myself."

"Had it been the case that you accepted me at first sight, I don't think I would have found you quite so interesting, Will. The chase has been somewhat thrilling. I wouldn't change a thing."

I chuckled darkly, then sighed at the thought of Beverly. I had to release my former self. Set him free so I could be free.

"When we reach the bluff, I want you to erode any remnants of the person formally known as Will Graham, FBI Profiler. I need to feel you again. All of you…"

Hannibal remained silent. It was refreshing to be in the presence of someone who understood without the need for words.

* * *

The bottle of burgundy and two glasses sat untouched on the bedroom dresser.

"My passion for you knows no limits, Will." The kisses were more forceful than before. Laced with the need that came punctuated by the absence we had both felt in our time apart. Unable to touch, to feel, to breath each other.

"Well that's good because I can't save myself from you, and that suits me just fine," I replied, as warm lips traced the line of my throat towards a bare collarbone.

"When the Dragon comes, we will share his essence."

"To be consumed by your fire is enough, Hannibal. Let the Dragon be my gift to you. As you once gifted me to him."

I lay beneath him, tangled in cool sheets, wrapped and drowning in his maroon-piercing scrutiny. I was lost, completely, and yet I'd never felt more grounded.

"You've changed me."

"We've changed each other. No greater love…"


End file.
